Feeling the same way all over again

I think the cat has got my proverbial tongue.

I went to a most wonderful performance at the Opera House on Wednesday night by the lovely Miss Norah Jones, and yet I’m not sure of what to say about it.

Maybe a more interesting story is how I almost didn’t go at all. Or maybe not.

For weeks, I thought that Norah was coming on Friday (and not Wednesday) and so I told my dear sister to leave that night free. Then on Wednesday afternoon, I happened to be online with ooee and I asked her if she was looking forward to Norah on Friday, to which she replied ‘Why indeed I am looking forward to Norah but it’s tonight my dear!’ or words to that effect. So I panicked the way I often panic when on the verge on wasting $170 worth of divine diva goodness and I called my dear sister and said something like ‘Hello dear sister, oh I do hope that you might be free tonight as I have discovered that I have erred quite badly about the date on which Miss Norah is to appear at the Opera House.’ But since neither of our lives are so exciting as to have completely immovable prior engagements on a Wednesday night, it turned out to not be such a big drama after all. (Although I did have to miss a birthday gathering. And I called and apologised quite profusely.)

During dinner, my front row tickets unfortunately got soaked by a minor spillage of my beverage and yet as I passed the usher with my limp, wet ticket, she just smiled as if it were the norm to have a limp, wet ticket at the Opera House.

The backup act reminded ooee of the Boy George character in the Wedding Singer. I didn’t mind him so much. The backup act that is. Not the Boy George character in the Wedding Singer. Actually please do inform me if any of you ever notice at any record store an album by the name of Hotel Radio. I didn’t happen to catch the scruffy young (ish) man’s name.

Miss Nora Jones herself appeared on the stage not long after and I took full advantage of my front row position. We were so close to her. I could indeed almost touch her if I had not been so afraid of being removed by force from such a fine establishment.

Norah Jones does not look like what a lot of other female vocalists look like. She appeared short and somewhat chubby but ooh was she beautiful! I would never have been able to take my eyes off her had her grand piano not obstructed my line of vision to her from time to time.

And when she opened her mouth it was like all my Chinese New Years had come at once. When she sang, she was heavenly. When she spoke, she was cute, yet graceful. She has the kind of voice that no sane gentleman could ever say not to. And her songs could make one sit perfectly content and forget all else in one’s mundane daily life.

Her band, too, was wonderful. They had a certain rawness to them. A certain lack of polish if you will. It almost felt like I had been invited to a jam session in their living room. Being so close to them obviously heightened that impression.

And when they had finally said goodbye and left the stage for the second time (some people still fell for them leaving the first time) we walked back to the station and I had a grin on my face, singing the same songs all over again in my head.

Take another bow, Norah.

And I'm feelin' the same way all over again
Feelin' the same way all over again
Singin' the same lines all over again
No matter how much I pretend

Tribute

‘Play me the best sport in the world’

For the past few days, there have been so little that I’ve wanted to write about. Sure, in bed and minutes away from slumber, I came up with lots of stuff to write about. But all of it would’ve been little more than copies of copies of the kind of stuff I’ve been posting up lately. So I haven’t bothered.

But last night was my inspiration. Last night I witnessed what was probably the greatest tennis match I have ever seen. In just under five (yes, five!) hours, Andy Roddick beat Younes El Aynaoui 4-6, 7-6, 4-6, 6-4, 21-19 and right there and then, I knew in my heart that, without a doubt, tennis is the greatest sport in the world.

Tennis is also one of the most under-appreciated sports out there. Compared to other big sports, like soccer and basketball, tennis players get paid peanuts. But what other sport is there where you have two guys going toe to toe for five hours?

And last night’s match wasn’t just about the length. The quality of play was extremely high and the level of endurance these guys showed was incredible. They were running, jumping and hitting balls at 200km/h for five hours!

I know I’m just gushing about tennis players right now, but I am seriously in awe. I am humbled by how fit those two guys were last night. And also how strong they were mentally. How can you not break down after playing a match for that long without a conclusion?

In the end Andy Roddick won and this could be a giant step in his career. Touted to be Tennis’ next big thing and now apparently dating Mandy Moore (lucky bastard), hopefully we’ll see him and Hewitt develop some kind of rivalry for the next decade. I was losing faith in the game of tennis. But now it’s back and I am happy.

Sleepwalker becomes me

A dull contentment.

I guess that’s what I’m feeling at the moment. Like an idiot pumped full of tranquillisers and drooling out of one side of an unprovoked smile.

I know what’s happening of course. I’m in a good mood but my body is so physically tired that I can’t act the way a normal happy person would. Last night, for example, I was so tired that I started snoring even while I was awake watching TV. I didn’t doze off. Just started snoring.

This morning, I was driving to work and I got to about two streets away from the office when I realised that I had no real memory of getting there.

Maybe Sleepwalker was driving for me.

Tonight will be my recuperation time I think. I want to go home, read a bit, fill myself with good food, watch a bit of tennis and then sleep and dream dreams that I can’t write about here.

But by tomorrow, I will probably wake up and realise that I had gone to bed far later than I wanted to again. I may not quite remember everything. But the headache will tell me everything I need.

Such is my norm these days.

Things to say

This season’s Amazing Race is finally over and Flo and Zach ended up winning it all. I liked this team at the start cos Zach seemed like a really nice guy and Flo looked hot. But then she got on my nerves cos she whinges and cries all the time while adding very little to the success of the team. Zach basically won the whole race by himself. Pretty good. I love this show, even though it took me a while a to get into it. Having travelled a bit last year and knowing what it feels like to be in a country for only one day trying desperately to see as many things as possible in that time, I can appreciate what they do on the show and I would definitely love to go on a show like that if Australia ever had one. And then there’s the million dollar prize of course.

There’s a few more things I wanted to whinge about since the last entry but I think I’ll just keep it to myself. Enough with the downers. I finished my damn project at work so I’m relatively content now! Yay! But now I feel like a blabbering idiot.

I recently got the Stabbing Westward album for only $10 and was surprised by how good it is. It’s not brilliant but is consistently good throughout. Sounding like some cross between Fuel and Smashing Pumpkins. Actually that’s probably a poor comparison.

Can’t think of anymore to write. I think I’ll stop now. This has been a very uninspired entry.

Another letter to forget

I think all my best ideas come to me just before I sleep. Or maybe they just sound good to me then because just before I sleep, I’m little more than an incoherent zombie babbling nonsense to myself in my mind.

It’s hard to write something funny when you’re in a depressed mood. Or something like it. The best that you could probably be expected to do is cynical humour. And while that may be good for some things, cynicism does nothing to cheer anyone up and you just go further and further down.

I need to get myself out of this hole. I don’t know what it is. I guess it’s a lot of little things. And maybe a couple of big things that I just refuse to admit to you or even to myself, really. And I feel like I’m on the verge of letting everything go and opening up and baring my soul for you to see. But I don’t. And I won’t. There won’t be a catharsis. What would be the use? It would just bring me further and further down.

It might have something to do with the holidays being over and me realising that I spent a total of one day where I didn’t come to work at all for the past three weeks. And this is including weekends.

Or it could be that Christmas came and went with nothing to show for but a carved-up turkey or that I had a fun yet ultimately empty new year’s eve. Or it could be that all my birthday did for me was bring me down.

But now it’s the new year and I’m not really sure what I’m feeling or where I’m at or what’s going to happen next. And though it’s obvious that the best I can do is wait and see how everything pans out, that really just isn’t good enough for me. I’m not really sad. More like deflated. My melancholy is offset by an absurdist mindset. Or maybe I just need more sleep.

There’s a song by del Amitri about a girl who’s at a wedding watching the man she loves marry someone else. The chorus goes like this:

So bring on the rain clouds
And block out the moon.
Let the action begin.
Well it’s as sure as sunrise
And sure as time.
The bride will be changing
And you will be crying.
And it will be raining
As soon as the tide comes in.

It’s beautiful because, like no other song I’ve heard, I think it illustrates perfectly how sadness often manifests itself — predictable and melodramatic. In a way, sadness can be laughable. And I realise that it’s probably a very cynical way of looking at the matter and the irony of what I say will probably be lost in its own obviousness but I guess that’s all I can muster up right now.

A little bit of absurdity to keep me afloat. But enough cynicism to keep me from climbing myself out of the water.